Poker Face
by penguinfighter-d-chan
Summary: Picking up after "The Diary of Jane", Shawn and Gus investigate the mysterious death of a Poker champion, but Shawn's got bigger fish to fry...specifically who Lassie's cheating on him with
1. Of Miscellaneous Items

A/N: Hi again!!!! Didn't take too much to put up another story, huh? Anywho, this picks up _The Diary of Jane_ and yes, this is based on Lady Gaga's _Poker Face_ (I am fully aware that there's a poker episode...). Reviews are always welcome!!!

characters (C) USA

* * *

I- Of Miscellaneous items

_The year was 1987 and it was the first day of summer and a young Shawn Spencer was strewn on his bed, ready to hit the sack and sleep in. No sooner had he begun to drift, he felt chilly water being splashed all over him. "Wake up, Shawn!" his father's booming voice vibrated within the boy's ears. "DAD! What the hell?!" Shawn screamed as he vainly tried shaking off the freezing waters. "Watch your language."_

_Henry Spencer usually did these sorts of things when he wanted to teach his son a lesson and today was no exception. "Today's the day you said you'd clean out the attic and the garage." "Say what?" Shawn retorted, trembling a bit. Then the boy remembered his commitment he had made to his father not too long ago with Gus as a witness. Problem was that he made the commitment before the school administration decided to lengthen the semester and further cutting back on the boys' summer. With a heavy heart and soaked pajamas, Shawn grabbed the mop and broom and cursed his way into the attic. "And no tricking Guster, you hear me?" _

0000

Shawn Spencer hated waking up early by default since before that unfortunate event as he slammed the alarm clock to the floor. It had been three months since the Jane Janet case wrapped and lately, all that Psych was getting were weeping widows and inheritance seekers. Gus was probably is his day job, toiling away with spreadsheets and all that boring jazz.

"What have I told you about tossing alarm clocks to the floor?" A stern voice said from above the bed. Shawn smiled as he slipped back in the sheets. There stood Carlton Lassiter almost ready to go to work, annoyance readily on his face. "Technically this is my alarm clock therefore it was bought for the sole use of being ignored and be thrown to the floor." Lassiter rolled his blue eyes and stepped closer to the sleepy man. "Your level of disrespect now reaches an inanimate object…that's sad."

As the detective reached out to give him a kiss, Shawn noticed a tiny note on his pocket and let his imagination run. "The spirits smell a nice dinner over at the _Vermont_ tonight." The fake psychic whispered before his lips were joined with Lassiter's. "Once again, the spirits are right." The head detective replied; he could never keep a secret long enough. Lassiter knew that Shawn wasn't really psychic but, for some reason, that element brought some sort of challenge that made him work harder. The last three months were bliss for the head detective; catch a couple of bad guys, head back home and spend the rest of the night screwing Spencer senseless. Ironic that Lassiter found himself severely attracted to the man whose only purpose was to undermine his police work.

Shawn pulled the detective into the bed and deepened the kiss. A well placed hand on his stomach and the fake psychic felt a rush of pleasure run through his back. The night the Janet case was closed, the two had what Shawn called the best sex he'd ever have since his senior trip way back in High School with the head cheerleader. "Why don't you have a late day? Just you, me, some pineapples and a desk to destroy…preferably Gus's." "Sorry Spencer but today I have a couple of things to do before you barge in and con your way into my cases."

Shawn was now curious at these so-called 'things' but decided that it was just too damn early to pin Lassie down and extract the information in his favorite way. Regardless, Shawn preferred to do his thing over at the precinct and went back to sleep.

0000

Three hours later, the Psych Detective phone rang true just as Gus arrived for lunch. "You're needed, Mr. Spencer." Chief Karen Vick stated before hanging up. "Chief's being secretive; means we've got a big case." The pharmaceutical sales rep deduced as he bit on his Reuben sandwich. "Awesome; Real World/Road Rules was getting boring anyways." Shawn replied absent-mindedly, tossing scrunched-up paper balls to the trash cans. This surprised Gus for a second; according to Shawn, he and Lassiter had split for at least two months due to the head detective being too possessive. "Really? You don't mind Lassiter being there?" "Of course not; I'm an adult, I can manage being around Lassie-face without breaking down to tears or psychopathic rage, like that movie with Julia Andrews and what's-his-name."

But things weren't exactly adding up to the statement, such as high records in the Metallica, Motley Crue and other songs from Old Metal and European bands in Guitar Hero; tracks that Gus knew for sure Shawn would never come near. "Lassie did those while we were still together, so in fact, he did me a favor," was the excuse the fake psychic given in that instance. _Shawn's one hell of a liar but this time, the lie's just too perfect_, Gus reasoned as he opened the driver-side door to his Toyota Echo hatchback AKA the Psych Mobile.


	2. Of Secrets and Random Normalcy

II- Of Secrets and Random Normalcy

At the police department, Chief Vick assembled detectives Lassiter and Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara in the conference when the pair arrived. "So what's the dealie-o Chief? Need me to channel someone from the great beyond? Or are you considering my plan to exorcise the ladies' locker room?" Shawn played up, making Lassiter roll his eyes. "Actually, we need your service for a conundrum," Karen started as he presented the crime scene photos.

The victim was Terry Western, as Shawn remembered, one of California's best poker players. But Shawn quickly noticed something very off about the body; the preliminary autopsy read no bullet wound, no puncture wounds, no bruising nor anything that would actually kill the man. Even the room where the body had been found was clear of any potential murder weapon. "Looks like a tough one, Chief. I'm not getting anything from the man's ghost though he is telling me about two ladies wearing nothing but hearts and diamonds and carrying a black A." the pseudo-psychic remarked as he made his signature 'psychic' pose.

"That was Mr. Western's winning hand last Wednesday night on the Santa Barbara Poker Invitational Tournament; an actual Four of a Kind with Queens with a spare Ace of Clubs." Lassiter read out loud from his report, glaring. _So that's where you were that day…here I thought you were on stake-out. _A quick observation to the photos revealed to Shawn a small nick on the victim's forehead, meaning hair plugs that had been ripped out. "Terry's also complaining about involuntary hair loss," Shawn said as he playfully pulled on Jules' hair, "probably by having sex with a wild animal."

Lassiter didn't miss on that off-handed comment and scoffed, "I could've told you that, Chief. There's absolutely no need to bring in Spencer for this case." "Regardless, there is no available murder weapon and no possible leads so it's best to let Shawn help us." Chief Vick clarified before dismissing everyone present.

"I'm very proud of you, Shawn." Gus congratulated earnestly. "Oh really? Why?" "You handled yourself very maturely." "What do yo-Oh, you mean Lassie? Yeah, well, we're coworkers; I get to rip him a new one and vice versa." Shawn quickly responded as they walked out of SBPD towards their car.

In truth, Shawn had behaved 'maturely' for one very simple reason: he had lied to Gus about his still-current relationship with Lassiter. The purpose behind the deception was unknown, even to the head detective himself. _'As long as you need…', so says Lassie,_ Spencer thought before his mind went to naughty places.

0000

As they readied themselves for field duty in the department's garage, Juliet noticed a smirk on Lassiter's face. But this one wasn't like his usual Spencer's-going-to-make-an-ass-of-himself smirk; this one was slightly softer. "You have a girlfriend!" Carlton practically tripped on some spare wires once he heard that. "Not the time, O'Hara." "But I'm right, right?" After almost five years of being his partner, the head detective figured that she could've found out anyways, making her a pretty good detective. _Besides, Spencer counts as a girl, anyways…_

"I'm not in the liberty to discuss those matters, but yes." Lassiter humored. "Congrats, Carlton! How long have you two been together?" O'Hara continued brimming with joy. "Three months and five days." Once Jules heard that answer, she quietly smiled at her partner's happiness; he deserved it after the divorce. On the way to the crime scene, Lassiter suddenly turned to the junior detective and said, "O'Hara, I need a favor."


	3. Of Burnt Peanuts and Ghostly Chickens

A/N: Sorry I took so long with updating this! Finals came up and made a huge writer's block. Anyways, Reviews are welcome!

characters (c) USA

* * *

III-Of Burnt Peanuts and Ghostly Chickens

The crime scene was Western's hotel room over at the SJP Marriot hotel over at the glitzy side of the city. The CSI crew left everything virtually untouched saved for the fingerprint powder. And just like the photos, nothing about the room seemed out of place. Shawn quickly noted a ticket stub to the Poker Tournament, a couple of half-full glasses and the man's bag.

Just a couple of seconds after Shawn opened the bag, Gus retreated with a contorted look on his face. "Eww, what's that smell?!" "I don't smell anything." Shawn stated, even giving the contents a good sniff. "Really? 'Cause it smells like rotten eggs and burnt peanuts." _Kinda like Lassie's cooking on a bad day…_ Shawn thought to himself. The bad cook theory was quickly dispelled when the fake psychic found residue of what looked like flavored rice on the floor along with hotel dishes. "He ordered room service."

"Wait, burnt-almond smell is the telltale sign of cyanide …Terry Western was poisoned!" Gus reasoned. Shawn quickly checked the fingernails and found them to be discolored, a clear marker for the powerful poison. "But how did it get into his system?" Both men looked at each other and searched around the service plate; Western had ordered a Continental breakfast but nothing reeked of burnt peanuts…except for the eggs, so confirmed Guster's super nose.

"Apparently, these scrambled eggs came some mutated cyanic-chicken 'cause they all smell like burnt peanuts. If we track down the chef, we find the killer." The pharmaceutical rep concluded rather proud of himself. But Shawn had another theory, especially when he saw a napkin with a smudge of lipstick over it. "Unless Mr. Western had a weird Victoria's Secret Lip Gloss #12 fetish, I just found a monkey wrench in your perfect theory."

"For now, let's check on the chef and see if he had a motive. The woman's just a red herring to throw the cops off." Gus retorted as he stepped out of the foul-smelling room. "You know, I never got why anyone would call anything that distracts another person a 'red herring'; there are far more surprising members of the Animal Kingdom to act as decoys…like Platypi. There's a pink platypus in the room."

The sales representative rolled his eyes but was slightly amused that Shawn actually pronounced the right way to represent the plural form of the quirky mammal and not Platypuses, which the pseudo-clairvoyant liked to emphasize the end for more comedic effect.

(A/N: I've always wanted to use the word "Platypi" in a fanfic XB)

Shawn and Gus had just exited the room when they crashed into Lassiter and O'Hara. "What the hell are you two doing here?" Lassiter growled quite annoyed towards his lover. Before the Head Detective could do anything, Juliet intervened with, "Who gave you permission to enter a crime scene without so much as a patrol officer?" Shawn quickly raised his hand to his forehead and replied, "The dearly departed Terry isn't one to follow the rules of the mortal realm."

Spencer then shifted his eyesight towards the document Jules had on her; it read somewhere along the lines of "Report of Unacceptable Behavior at a Poker Table". _Either in life or death…Terry must've done something illegal or unsportsmanlike at his last table…_ Shawn suddenly grabbed his chest and began heaving. "I feel my heart stinging like a thousand daggers piercing through it! I can't breathe! I'm on fire!"

Gus simply took a step back and allowed his friend's theatrics run wild. Lassie wasn't impressed but that's not to say O'Hara joined him. "Was Mr. Western poisoned?! But the autopsy report hasn't come in yet!" "Hello, psychic here! Anyways, I…what's that sound?" Shawn asked himself while dragging the two detectives into the hotel room.

"It's a mildly metallic sound, kinda loud, there's a late-night show about it, sort of like…" the 'psychic' said before slouching forward and placing his arms back. The next sound that came out of his mouth stopped any possible retaliation from Lassiter: Shawn clucked "BA-BAWK!"

"A chicken? A chicken's our murder weapon?!" Juliet attempted to reason while Shawn did a quick chicken dance around the area while Carlton pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ok, I've had enough; Guster, you know the way out and for added measure, you can take Spencer to the nut house while you're at it." "Wait! I found it!" Juliet exclaimed from the far side of the room, pointing at the breakfast dish. "Take a smell." Both detectives confirmed the presence of potassium cyanide in the eggs.

Out of nowhere, Shawn returned to his normal posture and "snapped back" into the living world. "Hey you guys! How come I taste sesame seeds in my mouth?" "You were channeling an edible flightless bird." Juliet replied before Spencer swiftly corrected her, "Not true; American raised chickens don't fly but some types can climb medium-height trees and others can fly at 10 miles per hour, low ground of course." (A/N: True story.)

Shawn and Gus slipped out of the hotel as Lassie and Jules remained to further examine the room. "You know what? I'm going to start taping your 'visions' and uploading them on YouTube; this one took the cake." Gus said while opening his company car's driver door. "Do as you wish but I get 40% of any proceeds you get from my stellar performance." Shawn replied with a grin on his face, "Meanwhile, I just found motive. All we have to do is find out what Terrance Western did during the poker game that deserved to have a record. Meet me at Psych after your day-job; I'll handle the rest."

0000

It was 8:30 in the evening when Gus finally finished his last worksheet. _Wonder what Shawn's planning now?_ He thought as he packed up his belongings and headed to his car. As he drove down the neat little streets of Santa Barbara's residential district, Gus came across a pizzeria and, knowing how his best friend liked stake-outs, bought two pizzas: one triple cheese and the other Hawaiian-style.

But just as he finished loading up the food, he noticed he was just two blocks from Lassiter's place, whose lights were strangely on. "Lassiter's must've left early…"was his first thought until he spotted a familiar feminine shape getting close to him. "Juliet's in Lassie's house?!" he almost yelled out but quickly shut up. Curiosity besting his better judgment, the sales rep sneaked over and hid beneath the bushes under the living room window.

"I haven't done this in a while so excuse me for hurting you." He heard Lassiter's voice say to a giggling Juliet. "Don't worry; we all get out of practice sooner or later." She earnestly replied as she inched closed and hung her arms over the Head Detective's neck. He responded by apprehensively placing his hands on her hips. Before either could do something about it, Gus quietly bolted out and headed straight to Psych; Shawn was going to flip.


	4. Of Gossip and Underhanded Legalities

A/N: Pineapple wine XD Hopefully I'm faithful to the characters here to make the relationship a little more plausible. Reviews are welcome! characters (c) USA

* * *

IV- Of Gossip and Underhanded Legalities

A few hours previously, Shawn sat down at the _Vermont_ while Lassiter ordered some fortified wine. "Strong stuff already? Sweet! Do I have to worry about tonight's evening rendezvous? 'Cause its Action Movie night and Gus picks. But I swear if he brings another Jason Statham movie…" the fake psychic rambled on before the Head Detective cleared his throat. "Are you done yet?" The momentary lapse of coherence distracted Shawn for a second before returning to the matter at hand. "Yes."

Both men knew that in order for this relationship to be stable (and not get Shawn arrested for 'impersonation of a police consultant') was to keep work and play separated. Yet the only thing on both their minds was the Western case, making the dinner uncomfortably quiet. "I didn't know you played poker, Lassie." Shawn observed to break the ice. "I'm no good at it." "Don't be such a Lass-a-frass; you said the same thing about _House of the Dead_ and _Guitar Hero_ and thanks to them, you're slamming me every other night." The look on Lassiter's face clearly read _Shoot me_ but Spencer reminded him that he wasn't allowed to carry a gun.

"Besides modesty never suited you." The pseudo-psychic added with a sneaky smile. "Like the kettle calling the pot black." Carlton retorted just as their food arrived. Shawn quickly noted that Lassie was emptying his plate at an alarmingly fast rate. "Another 'stake-out' tonight?" "Nope; I have some outside business." The detective replied while also noticing that his lover was hurriedly eating his food. "You?"

"Like I said; Action Movie night over at Psych. You're welcome to join us but please don't bring any home movies." Shawn responded while downing his specially ordered pineapple wine. _Lassie's getting an early birthday and Christmas present for this one!_ The younger Spencer thought when he first tasted the drink and nearly died of happiness (it actually would be a type of rum but hey, if they can make apple wine, who was the grape industry to say that pineapple wouldn't do the job?). Lassiter chuckled for a bit then returned to the task at hand. "No can do, Spencer but I will be back by 11 so if you still want to do something other than the obvious, you're on."

Thirty minutes later, the head detective dropped off Shawn over at his offices, a brand new bottle of pineapple wine in tow before said fake psychic initiated an impromptu make-out session. Shawn was in the middle of removing Lassie's belt when a cell phone rang. Being a stick in the mud, Carlton answered the call while Shawn licked around his neck area. "Lassiter." he managed to say between bouts of moaning.

"Hey, Carlton! I'm not interrupting something, am I?" Juliet's voice replied. "Is that Jules?" Lassiter gave Shawn a pretty straightforward glare to shut up and stop what he was doing but he simply ignored the latter. "Not at all; what is it?" "We kind of need you back at the precinct; it's about the Western case." "I'll be right there." The last syllable was higher than the rest due to Shawn touching around someplace sensitive. "Are you trying to get me to arrest you or better yet kill you?" Lassie scolded half-heartedly as his hands trailed south of the fake psychic's pants. "Too bad only one of those options guarantees me returning the favor." Shawn replied hoarsely. And just like that, he slinked out of the Crown Vic and bid his lover farewell.

Once Lassie was out of sight, Shawn flipped his phone and dialed the Santa Barbara Poker Games and prepared to do what he did best. "Santa Barbara Poker Association, how may I help you?" "Yes, this is Roderick Usher Armstrong; I'm with Terry Western's legal team. I'm calling about some misdemeanors that occurred last night. I just got the fax about it." Shawn answered in what he perceived was a lawyer's voice, "If you'd be so kind to get me a copy of his table during the Invitational, I'm sure I can clear everything up." The gratingly shrill voice on the end replied, "I'm sorry Mr. Armstrong but Mr. Western's dead." "I know but I'd hate for his gambling legacy be soiled by unjust accusations." The younger Spencer added to safe face. There was a brief moment of silence then the secretary said, "Your request will take ten to fifteen minutes to complete; please pick it up by then, thank you very much."

0000

Shawn was about to press Play when he heard Gus's company car arrive and screech to a halt. "What took you so long? I got us Terry's table video, the full misdemeanor report and, you won't believe it but, PINEAPPLE WINE! If only they made beer!" the fake psychic exclaimed. "For real?" Gus was stupefied at the peculiar beverage but quickly remembered why he had nearly broken a speed limit for. "Lassie's dating again."

The news surprised Shawn; not three hours ago, he and Lassie were making out his car. "Really? How do you know that? And who's the lucky prisoner?" he inquired while taking a gulp of soda. "Juliet O'Hara and I just saw them getting cozy in his house." The pharmaceutical representative didn't expect his best friend to choke on the drink. "JULES AND LASSIE?! Gus, have you been testing the products you're trying to sell to overly-paid assholes?" "My clientele is none of your concern but no. I'm serious, Shawn! He's doing the same thing he did with Lucinda."

As much as Shawn's pride wanted to scream that he, not Juliet, was the one in Lassie's pants, the discovery put some doubt in the other man's intentions. _Lassiter said he was checking something out with the Western and ends up home with Jules? Touché, Lassie, but I will find out what your secret diabolical plans are…_ "Dude, you are such a little gossip monger," "Am not." "Anywho, I got us what we need to find our killer." Shawn declared as he pressed the button and played the video.


	5. Of a dead man's tricks

A/N: Sorry I took so long with this chapter but I was in Summer class (that final was BRUTAL). Anyways, currently picking up an old Friday tradition of watching ghost-hunting programs Travel Channel (LOL). Will try to update more often! Reviews are welcome! Characters (C) USA  


* * *

V-Of a dead man's tricks

The 35-inch flat screen lit up with the surveillance tape with four people on the playing side of the table, including the Head Detective wearing sunglasses. "What's Lassiter doing there?" Gus asked slightly confused as he took a slice of pizza. "Playing I guess; that's how he remembered Terry's winning hand." Shawn replied, hiding a proud smile; Lassie had a two-pair in his hand. The fake psychic then turned his attention to the dealer and found her to be a very attractive brunette with nicely shaped attributes.

"I think both Katy Perry and Lady GaGa were thinking of this girl when they did their songs; she should be arm candy to some pimp." The younger Spencer remarked before his friend shoved him to the side. "Shawn, focus! We're supposed to spot the cheat!" Ten minutes later, one of the other players exited the table after losing what Shawn estimated were 200 grand. "One down, Lassie's chips run around 30 thousand, Buzz Killington over there has fifty thousand, Western's on with 100 thousand so that means the pot's $600,000 and growing." Gus analyzed and wrote down.

An hour later, both saw as Lassiter became the second one to leave the table and cash in his chips, leaving Terry Western with the other guy and the dealer. A quick flash of light blinded the bird's-eye camera for a split second then recovered. Shawn switched over to the security camera and the same happened in the exact moment. The only camera not afflicted by the mysterious flare was the overhead scanning camera which caught the blind moment: Western tapped his poker championship ring on the edge of the table, normally perceived as a "Hit". "Weird, most of the cameras on that table went dead in that one instance." Shawn commented. "Maybe Terry did something to block out the cheat. That's the questionable behavior listed on the report!" "Nah, the report says he was counting cards right up until he got the winning hand. But until that happened, all hands the victim was getting were either junk or weak-sauce compared to the other players." The fake psychic continued but then noticed that his lover hung around the casino for twenty to thirty minutes after cashing in his loot. _Why is he still there when he has no reason to…unless playing the table was his cover for the actual stake-out! But what else could be going on besides Mr. Western's blatant cheating?_

0000

"That was good, Carlton! You only stepped on my foot five times!" Juliet commented as she cleaned the sweat off her forehead. Lassiter motioned his head in pride; last time he danced with anybody, Victoria ended up with a swollen left foot. "Glad to hear it, O'Hara." He said while serving his guest a glass of water and a bag of ice. "I have to ask: are you taking that 'special someone' dancing? 'Cause I know a couple of places where you two can go…" Jules said before Carlton interrupted her with, "It's more of a preventive measure; just in case." "You just want to be ready should the occasion arise."

O'Hara had to admit; whoever this mystery date was, she lifted her partner's spirits, making him slightly more approachable and better to work with. "Is she in the Force?" Lassie rolled his eyes at the thought Shawn being a police man, like his father, and dismissed the thought as completely improbable. "You could say that…she can be quite the annoyance." "Oh…lawyer, huh?" _Spencer being a lawyer is even less plausible!_

"So you think this isn't some random rebound from your ex-wife?" Lassiter ignored the unintended intrusiveness of the question by frankly responding, "I pray to God everyday no. I think we've had enough chit-chat. What's next on today's lesson?" Juliet grinned innocently as she put on a different kind of music, "Rumba. Let's begin, shall we?"

The music had a fast tempo to it and the head detective had difficulty catching up with his dance partner's flurry of movement. But once the CD shifted to a more relaxed track, Carlton found himself wondering off in La-La land, specifically by replacing Juliet with Shawn.

Spencer would be taunting Lassie's dance moves as he carefully slid his hands south of the border as they inched closer and closer to… "Um, Carlton…I'm not your girlfriend," the sound of O'Hara's voice quickly reminded Lassiter of the fact and he quickly apologized. "It's a complicated relationship." "I think that's enough for today," Jules stated with an earnest smile, "we can pick this up Wednesday." "I can't, I have to file the Western report plus I have a date that night." "Good luck impressing her!"

0000

"We have to go back to the Casino and check out the table; there has to be a device around there that caused the flash." Shawn stated after he and Gus reviewed the grueling five hours of surveillance. "No can do, Shawn; I need to…" Gus began before the pseudo-psychic stopped him in his tracks. "Gus, this is a casino; I need a wingman, no further discussion. We'll even do that _Ocean's Eleven_ walk-in you've always wanted to do!" Gus looked genuinely tortured with the option. His reply was, "This better be worth it." "It will be."


	6. Of a lovely lady's lumps

A/N: Sorry you guys! It's not that I completely forgot about this fic...I jut got distracted by two things: college and working on the _Shawn's Body_ comic strip over at livejournal. But I'm back on track and will continue this along with all the other fanfics I've let rot for too long. Thank you for your patience and once again, sorry! Reviews are welcome!

characters (c) USA,

* * *

VI- Of a lovely lady's lumps

Shawn delivered in his promise as both he and Gus entered the Hilton Casino with a stride copycat to George Clooney's posse in the _Ocean's Eleven_ remake, complete with awesome suits. "Walk like we own the damn place," Spencer smirked to which Gus replied, "You know that's right." The table where the tournament took place wasted no time in getting some players, not even as part of an open investigation. Shawn instantly recognized the dealer as the same girl in the surveillance videos and quickly thought up a plan.

"Gus, how much do you have in cash right now?" "No way, Shawn; we're here to investigate Mr. Western's murder, not to play with _my_ hard-earned money," the pharm rep snapped back while grabbing a club soda. "Dude, all I have $500 and that fine example of female anatomy only plays with $2000 minimum!" Shawn argued childishly. "And how do I know you're not just hustling me for money?" "Ok, that hurt my feelings; you think I'd hustle you when I could seduce La…" the fake psychic stopped before any more 'sensitive information' slipped out. "Lackadaisical! You should be more lackadaisical with something as common as money!"

Gus gave Shawn a suspicious glare and, with no other choice that wasn't hearing his friend whine for the next twenty minutes, handed the money. "Thanks, Gus!" "You still owe me for the car!" the pharmaceutical rep yelled but Spencer was already out of sight. Instead, he spotted a doctor's convention nearby and decided to put his time to good use and find himself some new customers.

In his own manner, Shawn plopped himself on an empty seat in the dealer's table and gave her a quick wink. "Hi there, I'm here to lose some money; mind enabling me?" The girl, whose tag read 'Lady', giggled momentarily before saying, "Do you have $2000? Or would you like to start at $1000?" Still astounded at the coincidence in naming trends, the pseudo-psychic said, "Full, please…is that your real name? Because if it is, I have no other choice but to refer to you as Lady Gaga or my brain will explode." Lady shrugged and nodded, "My parents loved me that much."

"I see; so what's a girl like you doing dealing cards for rowdy old men, sleaze bags and devilishly handsome psychics?" Shawn continued as Lady dealt his cards. "I work here part time, gotta pay the bills…did you just say you were a psychic?" "I did but don't you worry about that minor detail; my powers do not extend to mind-reading or else I would've figured out what exactly happened to Terrace Western."

The mention of the dead gambler caused Lady to flinch for a split moment, long enough for Shawn to catch it: _she's possibly involved_. "I already told the police everything: when he won, he gave me a good tip and went back to his suite," the card dealer said in one huff while handing the younger Spencer his chips. "Ah, but the cards are telling me otherwise; they're telling me that he was poisoned by someone who was watching the game or by the staff of this casino," Shawn continued with his prodding but for some reason, Lady relaxed. _Ok…she's involved with this case but not as the killer…but what other ramifications can this case have?_

"Personally, I believe you but the spirits aren't so easy to convince, hold," the 'psychic' stated, he had a solid Three Pairs in his hand. The other player in the game was a middle-age man that looked as if he'd been through the gutter and back; he only had $500 worth of chips. Shawn also recognized the man as Buzz Killington from the surveillance only he wasn't the pompous and showboating man from the video. "Hey! I remember you! You were on the Poker Tournament last night!" he exclaimed, startling the gambler halfway to a heart attack.

"I was, wasn't I?" Buzz Killington, whose actual name was Joe Hamilton nodded exasperatedly, as if he would rather forget the thorough defeat by Lassiter's game. "Dude, you were pretty awesome until you lost! What was the guy's name?" "Harry Callahan and he looked mighty pleased when I folded and left the table. There went my chance at $600,000," Hamilton grimaced. On the other hand, Shawn looked like he was biting back a stupid smile, _Dirty Harry Callahan?! Oh Lassie, you have so much to learn about fake names!_

00000

Back at the Santa Barbara Police Department, Lassiter was both surprised and amused at the lack of unnecessary racket. _Spencer's not around…_he thought, drawing a pleased sigh, _I can actually get peace and quiet and some work done!_ "Carlton!" _And there went my peace and quiet,_ "What is it, O'Hara?" the Head Detective inquired. "I just got the autopsy report on our victim; Shawn was right! The coroner found significant levels of potassium cyanide in his system," Juliet read out loud. "Tell me something I don't know or Spencer 'divined'," Lassiter groaned.

"Here's the surprise: female saliva DNA was found on the body!" The junior detective continued, her face suddenly turning pink. "Oh really? That could give us our killer! Where did the coroner find it?" Lassiter asked but his coworker's expression shifted from curious to morbidly embarrassed. "On…his…" unable to finish the sentence, Juliet made a downward pointing motion and looked away. "On his WHAT, O'Hara? Oh…_OH,_" it didn't take Lassie much to figure out what she meant and he too became beet red for a split second. "Well then, all we need to do is match the sample to any criminal database," the Head Detective stated in one single burst of air before concluding with, "Make sure McNab does it."


End file.
